Our Hotel Staff is More Than Happy to Horribly Murder You

A monologue I wrote in high school, without edits

When I was 17 and mainlining Monty Python and early Woody Allen, I wrote the following one-person sketch. My influences are completely obvious, and of course I never had an outlet to sell or publish, so this will be its world debut.

In any event, with zero edits, cuts, or additions, enjoy:

This is your room. As you can see, this is the minibar.
Over there’s the television. The remote is here, bolted to the nightstand. The lamps turn on and off. There’s stationery, under the blank organ donor card. You can dial 6 for room service until nine. And someone will be in later to horribly murder you. Now, in the bathroom, you’ll -

What? Oh. I said, you can call for room service until nine. After that, you’ll have to -

Oh yes. Horribly murder you. That’s right. It’s a service we provide.

“Why?” Well, we can’t expect you to horribly murder yourself, sir, now can we? That’d be a suicide.

You… Don’t want to be horribly murdered? But, it’s our most popular service.

Well, you should have thought about that before you checked in.

Yes we do, sir. It’s on a big sign outside the hotel - “WE WILL HORRIBLY MURDER YOU”. Right under the “FREE HBO”.

There is a sign. It’s prominently displayed out back, behind the dumpster. And speaking of which -

Well, we did used to have it in front, but we found it cut into our business.

Look sir, it’s a simple service. Some time around three in the morning, a trained employee will break into your room, quietly creep to your bed, gently lift the covers, softly shake you awake, and then -

Of course he wakes you up. Do you think he’d murder you in your sleep? We promise to horribly murder you, sir. If you slept through it, what would be so horrible about that?

Yes sir, you would have to tip him.

Sir, we horribly murder all our guests. Why do you think we make you pay in advance?

One more thing. Would you like to be drowned, garroted, chopped to pieces with an axe, or -

Well sir, that’s why it’s called a “horrible” murder, not a “happy fun-time” murder.

All right sir. We’ll surprise you. In fact, I was just kidding.
(laughs unconvincingly.)
That’s right sir, no murders. Just the hotel’s idea of a joke. Ha ha. Ha.

No, no, no need to worry. Right.

Wake-up call? Sure, whatever. You got it.
Oh, uh the time. Yeah. Hold on, let me write this down.
(takes a piece of paper from his pocket, and starts writing with an imaginary pen)

What time was that? Yes I am. I am - sir, I am holding a pen.
(looks at his hand, which is clearly empty)

Oh. Right.
(fishes a pen from his pocket, clearly scribbles)

Now what time? Nine? Oh, six.
Yeah yeah yeah, whatever.
(crumples the paper and throws it over his shoulder)

Oh, I’ll dismem- remember. Good night sir. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning.

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